


new, but not unexpected

by popocco



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: (panic resulting from failure to recognize dry orgasm), Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Au Ra Warrior of Light, Cloaca, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Hemipenes, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Orgasm Denial, improvised bdsm gear, s-rank power bottom: thancred waters, scientifically accurate lizard dick, straight thancred is a hateful myth, this is really sappy and gay im sorry (not really), wol whos a person instead of a faceless reader insert (no offense)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popocco/pseuds/popocco
Summary: a fill for a very, very old original kmeme prompt that got so far away from me it's in space now: weird au ra junk. the tags kinda spoil it but what can ya do. thancred and the warrior of light do it in a hotel room. (incomplete- oneshot set in the middle of arr's haukke manor questline, but that's irrelevant for now)





	new, but not unexpected

Before this evening Yura had never in his wildest imaginings pictured a bell stand used for such a purpose. But with a lack of anything else in the room to fill this particular role, he had carefully, very carefully removed the ringer lest it sound and summon some poor oblivious aide to the scene, and then proceeded to unscrew the metal rod composing the central pillar of the fixture.

He presently puts it to use between Thancred's legs as requested, tying it beneath each of his knees with the strips of plain binding cloth normally wrapped around his own hands for support. He finishes the second knot and checks that it hasn't been done too tightly, thankfully sees no immediate digging or irritation in the surrounding skin. Some chafing is inevitable considering, well, imminent activities, but he would still like to prevent any more than necessary.

"Are you uncomfortable at all?" he asks, though the answer is fairly obvious.

"Quite the opposite," Thancred confirms with a blatantly pleased quirk of his mouth.

He's on his back, head propped up by a pillow at the base of his neck, naked but for that cloth choker of his and looking one hundred times more alluring for it than if he were completely nude. With his legs now propped open the way they are his satisfaction with this arrangement is definitely apparent.

The memories Yura has of their nights together in Drybone are wonderfully clear, but he still isn't yet practically accustomed to the some of the more notable ways that Hyuran anatomy differs from his own. It still seems to him that there is a lot of unnecessary flesh, but the way that the shaft of Thancred’s cock rests up against his stomach hard and flushed is a familiar enough sight to be reassuring. It has Yura's own groin quickly starting to rouse.

"Ah, if I might ask one more thing of you." Thancred idly thumbs away a small dot of precome from the tip of his member, which is horrendously distracting from whatever it is he's about to say. "My tunic on the floor there- if you would be so kind as to toss it over?"

This is just confusing enough to take Yura's attention off the way Thancred keeps thoughtlessly, casually, enticingly touching himself. He swallows and nods, roots around through the pile of their discarded clothing, and fishes out that simple black garment he's become so embarrassingly fond of through mere association. Hands it back to its owner, wondering if he intends to put it back on for some reason.

Instead, Thancred finds the string laced through the collar and swiftly pulls it out, then returns the tunic back to its spot on the floor. 

"My thanks," he says, then loops the string all the way around the base of his cock, and, balls Yura remembers as the common slang in this land. He ties it tightly, with the unnecessary little flourish of a bow.

To Yura this looks uncomfortable verging on painful, from the immediate dark rush of trapped blood and swelling veins, and he feels increasingly sympathetic until Thancred lets out a shuddering sigh and drops his head back in unmistakable elation. 

Well, he's not experienced in such proclivities himself, but Yura has certainly heard of a little pain being a stimulant for some. He's not actually too surprised that Thancred is one of them, he distantly realizes.

Having recovered a bit from the intensity of this self-imposed fetter Thancred returns his gaze to Yura, looking marvellously hot and out of breath. With as much sheepishness as one could hope to demonstrate with their legs tied apart and a throbbing erection, he says "I wouldn't normally, but I was rather hoping we could enjoy ourselves for more than five minutes.”

Yura fails to understand for a moment. Then, "You mean... you haven't-?"

"Is it truly so shocking? I _have_ been quite busy as of late," Thancred insists, with a look of mock indignation. He brings one of his arms behind his head to lean upon. "Although I do suppose I have my own storied reputation to blame for such misconceptions." He punctuates his words with a sultry, shameless wink.

By no means had the two of them agreed to be exclusively intimate with each other, Yura certainly had not expected such a thing. But to learn that Thancred's infamous philandering has been put on hold in the time they have been apart, even if only by coincidence, well, it still makes him feel a little special. Absolutely more than he ought to, but that sort of detail should probably remain unspoken to begin with.

“If you are quite finished grinning at the floor,” Thancred half-chides. Oh. Was he? “There yet remains something I would ask of you.”

Maybe he’d like his hands bound as well? He certainly enjoyed it before, but they have no rope handy, perhaps one of their belts could-

“Come here and touch me. If you would.”

… oh.

Yura prepares to oblige, steps up against the mattress between Thancred’s feet, brings one of his knees to rest upon the bed. Yet his hands remain idle.

“Where-” he swallows. “Where would you like me to touch you?”

“Anywhere you please,” Thancred smoothly replies, his expression daring.

Yura nods and leans forward. The dowel makes it awkward, stopping against Yura’s midsection as he braces one hand in the sheets next to Thancred’s upper arm, but the difference in their stature allows him to easily reach forward and thumb along his jawline with the other as he draws in for a kiss.

He feels a few soft puffs of laughter on his cheek, feels it hum on his lips. He bites gently at the smile against his mouth and pulls away, leaving just enough space for words. 

“Not exactly what I meant,” Thancred murmurs, failing to look disappointed.

“But you said ‘anywhere’.”

“True.”

Thancred drapes his arm over Yura’s shoulder and strokes up along the scales at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss, slow and deep. The base of Yura’s tail feels prickly and hot, his legs are itchy where they come flush against the backs of Thancred’s thighs. The front of his smallclothes is becoming more and more of a situation with every slick press of their tongues.

Kissing more intently all the while, Thancred slips his free arm between their bodies and tugs the top of Yura’s undershorts down. The backs of his deft fingers brush ever so gently against the lowest part of Yura’s stomach, and the tickling frustrating exciting sensation of it has him whine embarrassingly into Thancred’s mouth. He reaches lower still, teasing across the length of Yura’s slit with the pad of his thumb. Deliberately, maddeningly.

Yura no longer has the presence of mind to do anything useful with his mouth but Thancred is undeterred, kissing the jut of his chin down to his neck, pressing his teeth against the scales there as he finally grips the firm slippery cock fully emerging from inside of Yura.

Feeling his callused hand around that delicate paper-thin tissue is still almost unreal, it brings to Yura’s hazy mind in a flood of happy disbelief that the body squirming for contact beneath him really does belong to the man he fell for so quickly and utterly those short few moons ago. It’s too much.

“You’re too, good,” Yura breathes into the sheets beside Thancred’s head, helplessly grinding his hips forward into his incredible touches, closer, he needs to be closer. “I’m supposed to be taking c- ngh-”

“I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer,” Thancred says into his collarbone, with a low and passionate voice. It reverberates up through Yura’s horns and sends hot shivers from his skull to the tip of his tail. The hand around his cock tightens insistently and quickens, snugly dragging from the flared ridges near its tip right down to the root and then back up and so on with almost cruel dexterity and skill.

Yura already feels that sweet tingling restlessness in his thighs and his toes, his legs tensing with every ministration. Thancred’s breath is damp on his neck, his arm is tight around Yura’s back, and though it barely doesn’t touch his stomach Yura can feel the heat from Thancred’s own arousal.

His head feels like a midsummer’s storm cloud, thick and ready to burst. It’s all he can do just to hold the man beneath him close, as near as he can with a metal bar between their bodies, shuddering at the unbearable pleasure of simply being touched like this by someone so dear to him.

“Th- ancred,” he gasps, “if you keep- I can’t, I’m-”

On the down-stroke Thancred crooks his middle finger into the wet nexus of Yura’s loins and curls it inward, perfectly grazing the joint of his bifurcated shaft, teasing the flesh of the secondary phallus sluggishly starting to emerge in its half-flaccid state. Yura feels something almost like a sob burst from his throat and sink into the mattress where he’s pressed his face next to Thancred’s pillow, his hips stuttering wildly.

“Please,” Thancred mutters into Yura’s neck, lips moving stickily across his scales, “come for me-”

His hand disappears from Yura’s shoulder blade to rest just above his tail now, exerting barely not enough pressure, sending an itchy pulse of lust up his back. Yura gives in completely and pitches forward to meet the rhythm of Thancred’s hand, desperately.

He feels a wet tongue on his jugular and forgets to breathe, his body thrumming with ecstasy, doesn’t realise he’s coming until two of Thancred’s fingers are inside him again. The shocks of it are quick and hard, wracking his whole body with numb tremors and a lingering haze of sensation that continues to echo his climax for what feels like a shivering eternity.

Distantly, when his knees are still weak and shaky, Yura feels Thancred remove his hand and hold his breath. A quiet moan vibrates through the form beneath him, and by now he’s regained himself enough to lift his head.

He sees Thancred’s eyebrows creased together, the flush of his skin, his thick lashes, his parted lips (Yura kisses them clumsily, without thinking, just has to), the sweat on his clavicle, the haphazard strands of his own seed here and there on his heaving chest. He sees the straining shape of Thancred’s cock, dark and painfully engorged, twitching from negligence, pushing forth slow meagre beadlets of excitement. And below that his hand, pistoning feverishly as he fucks himself open on it like his life depends on the act.

Thancred ordinarily has a rogue’s flexibility but the way Yura has been slumped forward against this makeshift spreader bar has the man folded nearly in half at the waist, letting him plunge his fingers as deep as they’ll go, no longer out of any preparative necessity judging from the soft mindless noises he’s starting to make.

The afterglow has faded enough for Yura to feel considerable discomfort at the beam pressing into his stomach so he eases back and up, taking Thancred’s knees with him until he feels a pair of feet touch the mattress beside his hips. As though emerging from hypnosis Thancred beholds him with a dizzy expression, panting openly, pupils wide with desire. The spectacle is unbearable.

Yura wets his fingertips in the mess upon Thancred’s stomach and presses them easily inside him. Yura’s hand is much less practiced than the one it replaces but still has enough experience to intuit the right spot to press, sparingly at first, from embarrassment and apprehension. Embarrassment, that he gave in so easily to his own gratification after insisting upon catering to his partner tonight; apprehension at the almost frighteningly intense spasms that result from his fingers bending just so.

Thancred's head is tossed back and he breathes quickly and heavily, his hands twisting up the sheets in their grasp near his pillow. His skin is slick with perspiration, radiating with inviting warmth. He is, rarely, amazingly, completely wordless, simply basking in sensation. 

Yura has felt desperate in every number of ways since their early evening reunion but it looks, feels, like Thancred utterly needs this. To be tied down and pleasured out of his mind. Out of his reality filled with such grave expectation and duty. Even if it's only for a single night, Yura will fulfill that need or die trying. It would be a wonderful way to die.

With the waning of his most recently used cock the other has rapidly swollen to full attention, unconsciously gravitating Yura's hips closer as he massages his fingers into Thancred with mounting confidence and speed. The way his body welcomes Yura so readily is spellbinding, encourages bolder and bolder actions. A lingering kiss on his knee, where the wrappings have made his skin tender and sensitive. A long, slow caress all the way up the fat vein on the underside of his cock. The slightest amount of pressure at its raw and leaking hole.

Thancred cries out loudly. Ejaculate forces itself out in a few slow and laboured threads but his erection shows no intention of flagging, rather seems to strain ever the more against its binds. His entire body writhes, even trussed up as they are his legs are flexing and jerking. A flush has spread all across his chest, collarbone, neck, cheeks- high on his cheeks, is that-

-are those tears?

All of Yura's blood seems to freeze solid in his veins, instantly. He, his hands, they're too rough and unwieldy they must be, all they're really good for is hurting things after all, he, he needs to, he pulls his fingers out of Thancred as swiftly and gently as he can but still there comes a small groan that gores straight through his heart more surely than the realm’s keenest lancer ever could. He scrambles to his knees up and over the dowel and starts to reach, but, no, he shouldn’t touch, not if-

“I- s-sorry, I’m so sorry, are you- I’m sorry--”

Thancred looks directly up at him. His lower eyelashes are moist. His breath starts to catch. A chasm opens up in Yura’s stomach.

… then what sounded so definitively like the start of a sob turns into a very familiar soft kind of chuckle.

Yura’s vision had gone foggy without his realizing it but as it clears he can see that Thancred is… smiling at him. And laughing, quietly. A little breathlessly still.

Thancred wipes his eyes with his index knuckle and extends his hand to cradle Yura’s cheek. His palm is warm and sweaty. His eyes are warm too.

He sighs, and says: “You have nothing to apologize for, you great lovely fool. Besides stopping so suddenly perhaps.”

The immediate, dizzying explosion of embarrassed heat in Yura’s face doesn’t make his head feel any less empty than it did before. He looks down at Thancred’s cock, miserably hard and unspent. Can’t connect it to his contented expression.

“... But,” he finally manages to sputter. “But you haven’t. Uh. I mean, it looks rather… painful.”

Thancred takes on that coy expression he must have perfected years ago. “ _Surely_ I have well demonstrated that pleasure and pain need not be bitter enemies.”

If any more of Yura’s blood rushes up to his head there won’t be enough left for the rest of him and his heart will stop beating altogether. (That would be a mercy, probably.)

“Th-that’s not what I- you haven’t… come yet, so, I thought something must be terribly wrong, and that I- I was getting carried away, so I thought I had certainly… hurt you.” The terror and despair of that prospect start to seep through his chest again.

Something almost unrecognizable flashes across Thancred’s features for a moment, this… sad, tender look of surprise, that in its brevity still makes Yura’s heart ache deeply. But in a flash it shifts back into good natured irony, and Thancred draws his hand away in order to point his finger and prod it lightly into Yura’s forehead. A scolding sort of gesture.

Just like he’s pushed an actual switch in his mind Yura’s fear and self-loathing evaporate. The handsome face looking up at him has a fond, amused expression, with no trace of distress or malcontent. He feels extraordinarily silly for panicking but more than that he feels overwhelming affection, for this, impossibly kind and patient man. It makes his eyes start to prickle.

“Listen well, my dear fellow,” Thancred quietly entreats. “It is no exaggeration to say that anything, anything at all that you could think to do right now, would be precisely what I require.” 

He cups Yura’s face and pulls him all the way down by the roots of his horns, directly on to his lips. “I invite you,” another, longer kiss, “to be as carried away as you please.”

Yura’s nethers are starting to think for him again, are certainly more responsive than his mind or his mouth. But there’s still one thing-

“Should I-” Thancred won’t let go, hungrily pressing their lips together again and again. “Your-” He drives his tongue in so fiercely that Yura feels like his mouth is being fucked.

Without breaking the kiss Yura grabs his cock and shucks it a few frantic times to bring it back to throbbing. He clumsily strokes around between Thancred’s spread thighs, feels him moan into his mouth at the same time a few of his knuckles bump into the taut heavy swell of his testicles. With that much of a waypoint Yura positions his hips as impatiently as he can ever remember feeling, ventures a few useless inaccurate thrusts that still make burning pangs of friction dizzy his every other sense, then finally gets the angle right.

Thancred takes him in smoothly, all the way to the branching of his shaft, legs trembling as his insides twitch and squeeze covetously around Yura’s shape. The pleasure is so immense that it very nearly brings tears to Yura’s eyes, has throttled the breath right out of his chest.

If he moves he’s going to come right away but Thancred is impatient, squirming greedily on to his cock with both his hands on Yura’s hips to anchor himself, pulling their bodies impossibly close. Yura’s inactive hemipenis is squashed between his own thigh and Thancred’s buttock, oozing precome down the open grove on its underside, giving futile little pangs that altogether with the hot grip around its twin are threatening to drive Yura completely out of his mind. With feverish desperation he takes Thancred’s hands in his and all but shoves them down into the mattress where they can do no more.

He can’t remember how to talk. The air passing through his throat is scalding, like his lungs are full of dragonfire.

“Aah _Gods_ , please- I need- _please_ -!”

All the while Thancred hasn’t stopped moving, grinding their bodies as flush together as they’ll fit. Incoherent with lust he pleads in half-finished phrases, totally deprived of the clever composure he flaunted only moments ago. The sight of him alone, gasping and begging beneath Yura has him teetering perilously close to the edge already. Probably no manner of distraction at this point can forestall an early finish.

“-don’t, I don’t think I’ll last-”

Is that his voice? It sounds strange, dry and thin-

“Fine, that’s fine I don’t- here, just-” 

One of Thancred’s wrists jostles in Yura’s grasp so he releases it, and watches his hand go straight to that string. A single tug and the bow unravels, with it the bond’s tension. 

“Please,” he repeats.

Yura lets go of Thancred’s other wrist, holds him carefully by both hips and pulls back just achingly slow enough to dampen the sweet thrill of it. There’s a sound, and it echoes through his whole body, sticky, obscene. Thancred’s cock bobs with the movement and Yura feels the last of his restraint crumble away.

It’s still difficult to move inside at first, those earlier preparations faltering to the hot and tacky grip of a wanting body. Yura musters some lingering strokes through Thancred’s deepest parts, earns an impatient but not dissatisfied moan for his caution, and only has to venture two or three stronger pushes before he’s become wet enough to slide almost completely out then finally drive himself back in to the hilt with the fervour he’s struggled all this time to dam.

His movement is bumpy and uneven with frenzy from the start and punctuates odd hitches in Thancred’s voice with each thrust. Through the sounds of their sweaty skin intersecting, the rocking of the bed frame, the pounding of Yura’s pulse, things like “more” and “harder” reach his comprehension and urge his senses higher and higher to their peak.

The desperate heat in his thighs and his gut swells suddenly and he starts to yelp out a warning, tries to pull back, but before he can manage two syllables he’s already spilling into Thancred with rough unchecked convulsions. Thancred keens loudly and shudders around Yura, gripping him tight through his orgasm till it leaves him choking for breath while he blinks small novae out of his eyes.

Yura is conscious of the sopping state where their bodies connect, yet too lethargic to extract himself right away. His awareness quickly sharpens again however as Thancred continues to writhe on his near painfully sensitive cock, still not having achieved his own long delayed relief. Yura starts to reach between Thancred’s legs, wishing earnestly to grant it to him after having been accommodated twice now himself, hells that is embarrassing, but before he can make contact there are some fingers in the way awkwardly grazing his own.

“Wait,” Thancred entreats, his voice strained and breathless. “I want, _mmh_ -” He’s still wringing stimulation from their tethered bodies, gripping the bed beneath him now to leverage more movement, more friction, but it’s still not enough.

From this ceaseless agitation, Yura is already actionably hard again though it does ache a little. He can tell what Thancred is asking for now without hearing the rest of his plea; the rapport between their bodies is straightforward at least, infinitely clearer than any broken off desperate words. The heated breaths between them, the rush of their mingled heartbeats, these tell Yura what he needs to know.

He takes hold of the metal bar beneath Thancred’s knees, pushes it forward as far as it easily goes, and shuffles around on the bed briefly to make room for a measured and gradual retreat. The slow, wet, hot drag of it sets his hips and his mind to tingling all over again but not enough for him to miss the way Thancred’s body squeezes and jolts when the ridges of his cock brush along a certain place.

With Yura’s arm extended as it is the angle is intense, Thancred’s hips lifted completely off the bed by the pull of the spreader bar, but it’s definitely the right one; only a couple more careful lingering nudges in and up confirm it beyond doubt. 

He’s been close ever since he pulled the string loose earlier but now he’s positively writhing in anticipation, cock twitching and dripping on to the tense muscles of his stomach. To ask if he is ready at this point would be downright spiteful.

Yura takes a breath and drives forward with as much strength as he can muster, his hips and lower back starting to burn at the effort of maintaining an even and rigorous speed at such a steep incline. He feels beads of sweat roll forward and jar from his skin, he hears his own breath coming out harsh and embarrassing. He sees Thancred arch his back and wrench up an arm to clutch at his forehead like his mind’s coming apart as he gasps shakily, loudly, at Yura’s cock raking across his sweet spot without pause or mercy.

Through the brute force of it Yura is starting to feel once more ticklish and impatient, the tip of his second cock hitting and briefly clinging to Thancred’s skin with every quick momentous coup and needling sharp little thrills into the growing fever at the back of his head. Everything is wet and slippery and tight and hot, but more than that, the sight and sensation of Thancred finally letting himself go with a hoarse almost-scream is so captivating that Yura nearly forgets what to do.

It’s.. long, the longest that Yura has ever seen. All at once, Thancred’s whole body curls inward with rigid tension as he comes hard and thick on to his chest and collarbone. But the moment these throes seem to relax there’s another onset, of trembling, squeezing, then another, quicker this time but less intense maybe, and another, and more still, until Yura can’t recall when it started. He does his best to move gently, slowly in time with it all.

Thancred falls limply back on to the mattress at last. Barring some tiny lingering jolts he’s grown entirely languid, mussed and sweat-dampened hair sticking to his face in places as he slowly breathes, open mouthed, selflessly exhausted. 

The binding cloth tying his legs apart has become tough, rolled in on itself from moisture, and the skin beneath looks raw. Yura goes to the knots he made earlier, but they’re tight and hard now and his short nails can’t seem to get between all that wet fabric anymore. He glances around for something to use, and spies Thancred’s knife belt atop a writing desk. That will do.

Going to fetch the dagger means separating their bodies and Yura remembers with a stab of guilty embarrassment that he, ah, released quite explosively some time ago before he could pull out properly. He’ll need to think of a subtle way to have bath water brought to the room. But for now, at least, he can still do his part.

He steps back into his undershorts on his way off the bed, and before retrieving Thancred’s knife goes to the washing basin against the far wall to wet a facecloth and wring it out. The hanging mirror there shows an absolutely bedraggled head of hair, almost entirely fallen from its tie and hanging in strange awkward loops where still bound in place. Did he look like this the entire time?!

The urge to drop everything and immediately fix this debacle isn’t nonexistent, but there are more important matters to attend to. Yura unsheathes the blade on the writing desk with his free hand. It’s heavier than he was expecting. The feel of sharpened metal in his grasp isn’t wholly unfamiliar, but it does plant a nagging sense of wariness at the bottom of his chest cavity that he is instantly eager to be rid of.

Yura kneels between Thancred’s knees once more, and puts the damp cloth down beside him to have two-handed control of the dagger. Slowly, with utmost care, he places a nick in the bindings each where they loop around the metal bar, then immediately stands again to go put the weapon back in its scabbard. He finds that he can breathe more easily, as he pulls at the scores in the raveled bands of cloth until they fray and come apart at last.

He takes the washcloth back in hand, and realizes it’s left a wet spot on the bed and that he should have put it somewhere else. With the metal rod finally out of the way it’s clear that Thancred has a bright red ring of agitated skin under each of his knees, despite Yura’s initial efforts to prevent such a thing. This was probably inevitable, but Yura still takes the time to soothe the burgeoning welts with the soft cool press of the cloth. He has some ointment in one of his packs, but he can’t remember which one and they’re all on the floor under a bunch of clothing anyways. It could be located without much trouble at all, but he’d like to stay where he is for a while longer.

Yura moves the cloth to its intended purpose on Thancred’s midsection, gently starting to wipe away the sticky white blots and strands mingled there before they start to dry. He’s halfway up the man’s rib cage before he notices the pair of deep brown eyes calmly watching him go about his task.

He leaps backwards off the bed with a superbly undignified squawk, face burning. Thancred chuckles through closed lips, looking far too pleased with himself.

“--You- you were so quiet I thought you were asleep!!”

“Not quite,” Thancred grins. His voice has a slight rasp to it now but it’s as smooth as ever. Maddening.

He’s propped up on his pillow again but otherwise has barely moved an inch from before, obviously very tired despite his mischief. Still hot with embarrassment, Yura sighs and returns to the bed to sit at his side.

A moment or two passes.

“Pray do not allow my consciousness to deter you now,” Thancred says, glancing at the washcloth still in Yura’s hand.

There is still a rapidly cooling mess on his upper chest, growing visibly hardened in the dips between his muscles and in the slope above his clavicle. Some on his chin, too.

The man is an absolute devil, but he is a dear one.

“... Close your eyes,” Yura insists with all the conviction of a wet leaf.

“If I must,” Thancred concedes. The performative reluctance in his tone is lukewarm at best.

He keeps his word. When Yura brings the cloth back to his skin, he makes a small contented hum but is otherwise speechless, wearing a restful expression and breathing quietly as Yura finishes his work in not much time at all. 

He dabs away that last little spot on Thancred’s face. Almost without pause Thancred rolls his head ever so slightly, leaning his brow upon the outside of Yura’s thigh. “Thank you,” he says, very softly.

Yura feels fit to run ten laps around the whole of Thanalan, so high does his heart soar.

He quickly decides that he can happily settle for staying exactly where he is.

**Author's Note:**

> this is so unbelievably not finished yet- there's a segment of lead-in that more than doubles the word count, and an entire extra sex scene with a better ending, but i've already been stuck on finishing this for almost two years and this tag desperately needs something that isn't rape fetish and/or child pornography and/or nazi dicksuck so here i am. i will finish and add the rest.. eventually. probably. i fight for my friends.


End file.
